


Life is skittles and life is beer

by ghani



Series: whatever a moon has always meant [3]
Category: A7X - Fandom, Avenged Sevenfold, Bandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Bottoming from the Top, Cowgirl Position, Established Relationship, Hilarity Ensues, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Rimming, Sex in the Park, Songwriting, Tom Lehrer references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29369301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghani/pseuds/ghani
Summary: "You're incorrigible," Brian's spoke low, as if careful to not break the pale light filtering through the trees."I'm not the one that dropped our drinks," Jimmy's voice was even lower, but the complaint had gone out of him with those fingers on his skin. Fingers that smoothed out any irritation like creases in fresh laundry had started tapping idly against his bicep in syncopated beats, distracting those emotions away.
Relationships: Brian/Jimmy, Synyster Gates/Jimmy "The Rev" Sullivan
Series: whatever a moon has always meant [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155854
Kudos: 1





	Life is skittles and life is beer

"God you're such an ass," Lazy fingers slid down the back of Jimmy's neck, half tugging, half stroking at the hair caught between them. He shivered, considered pushing Brian's arm away but didn't feel like moving even that little bit.

"I learned it from you," Brian grumbled, tugging a little harder.

"Like hell. You punched me first!" it was an accurate accusation, if an old one, "....you always punch first." Usually true, and less old. Jimmy eyed Brian without turning his head, examining his profile a moment in the light. Dawning light, actually. Twenty minutes ago it would have been too dark still to see those exquisite lines, proud cheekbones and lips twisted in a slight smile. A cutting smile, but for the quirk at one side (the side towards Jimmy) that softened the expression just enough to give it a sweetness neither man would admit to existing. At least, not in words. It was still communicated. In touches, like the hand, warm and heavy on the back of Jimmy's neck. In gestures, like the way Brian had carried all the alcohol from the car to their favourite spot. In the way he dropped two of the bottles to try stop Jimmy from face planting in the grass when the tall drummer tripped in the dark.  
Brian stretched as lazily as his fingers had moved, then resettled around Jimmy's shoulders. Heavy. Warm. Wholly ignoring both accusations. 

"You're incorrigible," Brian's spoke low, as if careful to not break the pale light filtering through the trees.

"I'm not the one that dropped our drinks," Jimmy's voice was even lower, but the complaint had gone out of him with those fingers on his skin. Fingers that smoothed out any irritation like creases in fresh laundry had started tapping idly against his bicep in syncopated beats, distracting those emotions away. It was the same beat, Jimmy noted, that Brian had been tapping the day before. That day it had been on his bare hip, tickling the skin and prompting the drummer to squirm almost in counterpoint. He squirmed again, just a restless shift of his shoulders and Brian's fingers stilled. Those _wicked_ , lazy fingers. They stroked a silent apology over Jimmy's arm, hand sweeping from the point of his shoulder to his elbow just once, and settled there instead. This brought Brian's arm around Jimmy's back, heavy. Warm. He leaned, slightly, head tipping against Brian's own shoulder in acquiescence. 

"I'm not the fucker who can't walk," For all the quiet, Brian's voice held mild reproof, and Jimmy opened his eyes (when had they closed?) to scowl up at one sharp cheekbone. 

"It's fucking dark out!" He looked around, "Or it was, anyways. Jesus, the sky is glowing." There was a fog in the trees that was obscuring the rising sun, leaving the branches in ghostly outlines. Branches nearer to them seemed to jut out, straining for the light to little effect. The haze did almost glow with the sun trying to burn through, and it held a soaking chill that seemed to be dampening Jimmy's hair, suffocating any echo of their voices.  
Brian's arm was moving again, hand lifting so he could slide those fingertips about the curve of Jimmy's ear. Tap. Tap. Ta-taptap. T-tap. 

"Motherfucker I swear to god I'm going to-" Jimmy's voice still didn't cut the stillness, and Brian's laugh chuffed silently against his other ear, tickling enough to make him yank away. There was another soothing, smoothing rub of Brian's hand, this time down Jimmy's back and this time, slow enough to be sensual. Prickles followed that hand, from the nape of his neck to the base of his tailbone, to his hip where Brian's fingers curled, ducking in just a little below his waistband to the sensitive skin beneath. This time, Jimmy didn't pull away. "....Motherfucker," He sighed, and dropped his cheek down against Brian's shoulder again. He was almost cold, but not quite. Almost horny, but the damp didn't encourage any naked shenanigans in the wet grass they sat in. Bad enough his jeans were feeling the dew seeping through, further chilling him.

Brian seemed impervious, though, the predawn haze outlining those cheekbones and the line of his nose in to something almost hawkish, those brown eyes almost predatory as he cocked his head to look down at his best friend. "I'd do no such thing," He replied mildly, "Your mother is a saint."

"Fuck you."

"I suppose."

Jimmy's head snapped up so quickly he nearly whacked the underside of Brian's jaw. They had somehow become curled so close that with his head raised they were nearly nose to nose, blue eyes to brown and Jimmy realized the soft puff of air on his cheek came from Brian, the guitarist's breath coming a little shorter. There was a smoulder there, a spark traveling from him to Jimmy like a flick of flint to tinder, setting him alight. 

"The ground is kind of.... wet," Jimmy didn't move away as he spoke, lips instead browsing Brian's cheek with each word. He saw an answering tremor make those heavy shoulders shift, and Brian's arms were moving, sliding, capturing him there.

"Sorry I don't have a featherbed and down pillows, princess," Brian bared sharp, white teeth and nipped at Jimmy's bottom lip hard enough to leave a sting. 

"Just a poor minstrel with his lute, I guess?" Jimmy licked the newly sore spot, watching as Brian's eyes followed his tongue. "You know in olden days those guys were all whores, right?"

By this point, one of Brian's hands was reaching in to Jimmy's jeans, fumbling with the button, swearing in soft hisses as a knuckle caught on the zipper.

"Speak for yourself, slut," Brian's weight caught Jimmy by surprise, pitching him back into the tall grass and he flinched uselessly away from the cold, wet itching of it. The other man had him pinned, first by weight alone and then... and then Jimmy was jamming one forearm against his open mouth, smothering a desperate moan as Brian's mouth slid down over his cock. 

Brian was fairly certain the other man was swearing, swearing like a goddamned Barbary coast pirate but all he could hear was a strangled gurgle from where Jimmy was biting against his own arm. Their spot was pretty private, far enough away from the roads and paths to completely hide them from sight and mostly, from sound but if you yelled, you'd be heard. The last thing either of them needed was some nosy early jogger investigating the moaning from the bushes. Jimmy's hips were lifting, twisting, shoving his cock in to Brian's throat til he choked and, with a cough pinned them flat to the ground. He had to take a moment to force air back down his lungs, press his gag reflex back under control before he licked a slow stripe from base to tip, curling his tongue around the head til he heard a few more softly strangled curses. 

"You... you..." Jimmy had pulled his arm back down again, panting as he felt the ache in his balls, the need flooding him, drowning him. 

"Obviously," Brian was digging in to his pockets, pulling out a tiny bottle and emptying half the contents on to his fingers. "You better not be fucking anyone else." He eyed the taller man, not truly suspicious so much as curious. Exclusivity had never been a _thing_ but they were what they were, and he wondered, briefly, if maybe it was a thing after all.

Jimmy snorted, but his gaze was fixed on Brian, who had just realized he'd lubed his own fingers before getting his own jeans off and was desperately trying to figure out how to hold the little bottle, undo his jeans fastenings and not get lube all over the place. "Let me," He sat up, batting Brian's hands aside and finishing the job. "I thought I was fucking you," he began, but stopped at the exaggerated roll of those brown eyes. Brian, he realized, was shifting to straddle Jimmy's thighs, spreading his own wide and reaching back-Jimmy caught his wrist. "Turn around, idiot. Let me-" he looked up, feeling the sudden stillness in the other's big frame. "Let me," he repeated, his voice insistent, coaxing. 

The other man still didn't move for another few heartbeats, dark eyes hooded and searching. then slowly his weight shifted, legs awkwardly bumping as he shoved denim out of his way and knelt with his back to his best friend, knees on either side of his hips with his cock heavy between his thighs. Fingers still wet with lube flexed, curled and uncurled, his clean hand bunched in an unconscious fist. Jimmy raised a hand to that gorgeously tapering back, touched between his shoulder blades to stroke down towards his ass and as if bound on a string, Brian bowed forward with his touch, ass pressing towards his lover. Jimmy's breath escaped in a low gasp like the air had been dragged from his lungs at the perfection of it, hands trembling as he gripped his lover's hips with both hands and pulled his ass to him.

Jimmy's first lick had Brian instinctively yanking away, cock bobbing between his legs and with enough leverage he would have launched himself flat onto Jimmy's thighs, but his lover's grip was inescapable. Brian could already imagine the shape of the bruises from those incredibly strong hands. The second had him twisting, squirming, and he could feel the fight being drawn from him as the illicit pleasure radiated through him. Heat flooded his cheeks, his neck, his chest and he twisted again, hips arching and length rubbing against Jimmy's skin.

Jimmy made a faint sound against his skin, sounding suspiciously satisfied and Brian was about to warn against any ill advised lollipop jokes when he felt the man's tongue dive deep, wet and hot and Brian could hardly balance with one hand braced on the ground. There was a delicious, raw contrast between the slickness of Jimmy's mouth and the almost day-old stubble on his chin and jaw, scraping such delicate skin. His other hand, fingers still slick, hovered uselessly by his mouth as he pressed his palm over it, desperately stuffing down the urge to scream. Jimmy was practically purring against his hole, the soft sucking sounds of his mouth and tongue pinning Brian like a butterfly across his chest. 

"Please" His voice was a croak, strange in his own life ears, "Jimmy, please please, Jim I-" Brian sucked in another breath, "please, please or I swear to fuck I'm going to start screaming..." 

The low chuckle behind him was wicked, and somehow even sounded as wet as he imagined that gorgeous mouth was right then. "Promise?"

"Fuck, fucking... goddamnit Jimmy don't you-" The next breath was driven out of him as Jimmy's fingers plunged deep within his body, tongue flicking between them. Then those fingers pulled back, and he felt them, wet on his wrist, pulling his own hand until he was sliding his slick digits in to himself. 

"That's it," Jimmy crooned, "Fuck yourself on those a little, we both know you never need much." And he didn't. Brian had always been able to relax with shocking ease, and never so much as when Jimmy rimmed him. It was rare enough for Brian to want to be fucked, and even rarer that he let Jimmy rim him, but when he gave in, he gave in so sweetly it was almost more than Jimmy could take. Another soft groan escaped him, and Jimmy's patience snapped, a tiny nip with his teeth sending Brian starting forward. Without being asked, he pulled forward and wrapped that slick hand around Jimmy's cock. When it didn't seem enough he skipped groping for where the bottle had dropped and just spat into his hand instead. 

"Fuck, Bri," Jimmy's breath caught at the filth of it, shoving up in to his hand. "That's it, that's.... yes, fuck c'mon," he watched as the other man sank himself down over him, choking on his own breath at the burn-stretch as the head of Jimmy's length slipped past the first ring of muscle, and stretchstretchstretch of opening him up wider, _deeper_ with every inch. Brian's shoulders twisted, muscles rippling beneath his tattoos and he threw a single hazy-eyed glance behind him before he really began to move. 

Jimmy whined low in his throat, knowing what he was in for and _knowing_ he wasn't going to last more than a hot minute. Brian's hips rolled with all the sinuous grace of a dancer, arms lifting to tangle in his thick dark hair. The drummer whined again, desperate to move but almost afraid he'd break whatever spell had been cast over that moment, he let Brian have control to use his cock as he wished, to get whatever pleasure he wanted out of his body. He could hear the rasp of breath in Brian's chest each time his body lifted, soft curses as he ground down until... until. 

Jimmy swore. Loudly, feverishly, and in one ungraceful movement he wrapped his long arms about his lover and rolled them both until he had Brian pinned on his stomach beneath him. That goddamned _tap tap, ra-taptap t-tapping_ beat. He'd begun fucking himself, in that beat and Jimmy was torn between hysterical laughter and an ache so desperate, so deep it was like drowning, sucking the ocean down in your lungs and never coming back up for air. His hips moved in hard, steadying thrusts, ignoring the muffled whimpers of protest at the wet, the chill, the grass and the indignity of his show being interrupted. Jimmy knew when he'd found the right spot as Brian seemed to suddenly melt, boneless beneath him, no longer fighting being pinned and instead spreading his bare legs wider, hips hitching back uselessly against him. 

"That's it," The drummer's mouth was pressed against Brian's neck, absently sucking in a hickey the anothher, then a third down Brians spine. His hips pistoned down in to him, relentlessly grinding in to that sweet spot to drive as much pleasure through the other man as he could. Finally after a few panting, gasping minutes though, Jimmy relented, easing back enough to let Brian scrabble back up to hands and knees, sputtering and spitting, pressing himself back as hard as before to meet each thrust. Jimmy reached for his cock, only to have his hand slapped away so Brian could thrust in to his own hand til he came. Jimmy fucked him mercilessly through that orgasm, biting in to Brian's shoulder as the hot grip around his length tightened and he was fuckinh him through his own too. Jimmy couldn't see, couldn't hear beyond the roar in his ears and the heat boiling in his skin and he pressed tight against Brian, trembling desperately from the exhausted high. 

They lay panting and grass stained by their clothes, too wonderfully numb to move. Finally the drummer stirred, hand on Brian's chest. _Tap tap, ta-taptap, tap tap t-tap tap tap._ His long fingers were hard, quick and moved with such delicate precision that Brian's chest lurched with the beauty of it. Jimmy, answering the rhythm in kind, a counterpoint that one-upped and elevated what had been playing through his head for days. The answer to the riff that had been digging in his mind like a splinter.

"I swear to fucking...I swear on everything fucking unholy, on all ye gods and little fishes, Brian, if you don't fucking write that soon and get it out of your head I will fucking murder you," Jimmy promised darkly, the fight between amusement and irritation clear in the clean sunlight that lit his features

"I'll fucking get to it," Brian was still too hazed with pleasure to rise to the bait of Jimmy's threats. He ached in places he would likely soon regret, and the dizziness of too much to drink and too little sleep was starting to creep up on him. One of those big hands slid in to his hair, almost a caress as Jimmy began to smooth it back from his face. "I will. Tonight." He looked up in to those blue eyes, narrowed against the light that had finally burned the fog off the trees.

"Fucking better," Jimmy intended a growl, but it came out a little petulant, and he carefully pressed back the last few stray strands of dark hair from Brian's face. Finally he bent, kissed those soft lips and tasted the alcohol there. Alcohol, cigarettes, and dress, the echo of a night gone too quick, and he was still far too awake. "Murder you," he promised softly, earnestly, earning a lazy, blissful smile against his mouth.

"Murder. Got it." One hand groped free to find Jimmy's cheek, then returned the gesture by carding back the other man's hair out of his eyes. "Now lemme up, I gotta get some fucking sleep at some point today and I'm not doing that naked in the park," Brian squirmed free and dug around for his jeans.

"Spring is here, spring is here," Jimmy half muttered, half sang.

"Life is skittles, life is beer," Brian joined in the next line, grinning back at the madman who had just fucked him in to the grass, feeling cum dripping down his thigh as he hauled on his jeans. He skipped to the chorus, "All the world seems in tune on a spring afternoon when we're poisoning pigeons in the park!" Jimmy's high voice joined back in, a little breathless as he dragged his own pants on, "Every Sunday you'll see my sweetheart and me as we poison the pigeons in the park!" Brian was laughing too hard to continue as he checked his pockets for his cigarettes and plucked one out, quickly lighting it as they made their way out of the trees. Jimmy, stretched to his full height and tucked Brian against his side, arm around his shoulders. Heavy. Warm.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, it's a real song if you don't know it. Tom Lehrer, an absolute genius, look it up and just try tell me you can't picture Jimmy singing that shit (if he knew it, especially given the piano in Pinkly Smooth). Link, if you are so inclined. 
> 
> [Poisoning Pigeons in the Park](https://youtu.be/yhuMLpdnOjY)
> 
> This is also thanks to re-watching the all excess dvd for Jimmy's birthday while drunk, and you know. We all know.  
> 


End file.
